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Nine years later, when I became a follower of Christ, Raymond was one of the first people with whom I shared my faith. He listened to me respectfully, but I could tell he was guarded, too. I think he may have felt he wasn’t good enough to become a Christian, or that he would have to give up too much to follow Christ. But I wouldn’t let him go. One day I happened to be near Macy’s and on an impulse walked inside and found Raymond polishing the marble floors. I talked to him again about the Lord, and when I invited him to receive Jesus into his heart, we prayed together then and there. When we said “Amen,” Raymond looked at me with a warmth I’ll never forget and gave me that beautiful smile. We embraced—brothers in Christ.
That Christmas (it was 1982), I managed to get half-price tickets to a performance of Messiah at Carnegie Hall. Raymond joined me in the far-off balcony section along with several friends from church. Knowing a bit of history, I got to my feet as the Hallelujah Chorus began. Raymond followed my example, but took it further, spontaneously raising his arms over his head and shouting for all the world to hear: “Hallelujah! Hallelujah!” And then, Raymond Bair, a janitor at Macy’s Department Store, wept openly, his sobs—so it seemed to me—rising above the swelling volume of the choir below.
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